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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010349">to have and to hold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape'>treescape</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>to have and to hold [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Obi-Wan pulls the strings behind the scenes, Possessive Anakin Skywalker, Suitless Darth Vader, Two years post-Revenge of the Sith, Vaderwan, unhealthy relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:48:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He was here to be a diversion for as long as he could hold out. He was a challenge and a temptation, rolled neatly into one.</p><p>
  <i>Or, in the aftermath of Padmé’s death on Mustafar, Obi-Wan gives himself to Anakin to protect Leia and Luke.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>to have and to hold [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>585</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to have and to hold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came about after discussions about possessive Anakin with <a href="https://orientalld.tumblr.com/">orientalld</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete/pseuds/tessiete">tessiete</a>.</p><p>Set about two years after <i>Revenge of the Sith</i>, with a slightly divergent canon in which Padmé dies during the battle of Mustafar and Anakin senses it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their evening began with a slow sense of familiarity that Obi-Wan always had to arm himself against. The bronze sweep of Anakin’s hair as it curled at his neck, the tilt of his mouth and the slant of his jaw, the glasses and the decanter on the table of their rooms aboard the <i>Executor</i>—it could almost have been enough to distract Obi-Wan from why he was here.</p><p>He was here to be a diversion for as long as he could hold out. He was a challenge and a temptation, rolled neatly into one.</p><p>It was, perhaps, the most important assignment of his life.</p><p>A glass lifted from the low table between them, honey slow, and floated to a careful stop before him. Obi-Wan raised his hand to let the coolness of it graze the tips of his fingers, Anakin’s power still curling riotously about its golden contours, and then took it more firmly in his grasp. He returned the favour, allowing himself to savour the brief connection to the Force. He didn’t use it much, these days.</p><p>He had to be so careful.</p><p>Anakin accepted the second glass of brandy, his gaze steady as he leaned back to cross one leg over the other. Obi-Wan wondered, sometimes, if Sidious knew anything about these domestic scenes, or about how much latitude Anakin’s Jedi <i>prisoner</i> had—in these rooms, on the <i>Executor</i>, within Anakin’s mind.</p><p>“You’ve been talking about Alderaan a lot today.”</p><p>Obi-Wan hadn’t been, really. He’d dropped a few words here and there, pressing just enough to catch Anakin’s attention. It was a risk, but Obi-Wan had taken similar risks on a daily basis over the past two years. He had almost put this one off for too long; it was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. In its own way, showing indifference to a known friend posed as much danger as favouritism did.</p><p>Anakin’s eyes were tight but blue in the dim light, so Obi-Wan pressed just a little bit further. He took a slow sip from his glass, shrugging his shoulders beneath the weight of his pristine tabards. “Senator Organa has indicated numerous times that Alderaan would be willing to host the summit. I don’t know why you and your Emperor won’t consider it.”</p><p>Those eyes narrowed a fraction more, irises gold at the perimeter, and Obi-Wan knew he’d pushed far enough. It was the thinnest of lines; the day he misjudged how thin it truly was, all hope might be lost.</p><p>“I said no.” The black of Anakin's cloak and robes, so like those he had once worn as a Jedi, seemed somehow darker than ink. Obi-Wan hated that they suited him so well. He wished they made Anakin look sallow, indistinguishable, <i>wrong</i>.</p><p>“It was just a thought, Anakin,” Obi-Wan hedged irritably, just the right amount of bite in his voice. To be plausible, his capitulation must be grudging and not quite absolute. It had always been the greatest weakness of his plan: Anakin knew Obi-Wan just as well as Obi-Wan knew Anakin.</p><p>With enough care, it was the greatest strength as well.</p><p>“Perhaps you should have less thoughts about my business, <i>Obi-Wan</i>.”</p><p>Obi-Wan didn’t bother to hide his thin smile at Anakin’s emphasis. Obi-Wan’s own insistence on using Anakin’s given name—the name his mother had granted him, the name Obi-Wan himself had spoken for years and refused to relinquish, to bury, to <i>kill</i>—rarely failed to provoke some type of reaction. Here and now, it was just the reaction Obi-Wan wanted. It meant that Anakin’s attention was shifting, edging away from Bail and from Alderaan and back to Obi-Wan. It was slow but it was sure, like a Destroyer altering its course. All Obi-Wan had to do was keep him turning.</p><p>Bail was one of only two people who knew the location of the galaxy’s last hope. It was a distinction even Obi-Wan didn’t hold.</p><p>“I thought you wanted it to be my business as well.” Obi-Wan let the fingers of his free hand tap a light rhythm against the arm of his overly comfortable chair. Once. Twice. Thrice. No more. It was just enough that Anakin would not be certain whether Obi-Wan had done it intentionally or not.</p><p>“I never said that.”</p><p>Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow but didn’t otherwise respond. They both knew Anakin had never needed to say it; he had always hungered for Obi-Wan’s attention. He did so now more than ever, when he had so little else left to him.</p><p>Anakin seemed uncomfortable at the silence. He tried to hide it behind his own glass, staring into its depths and tasting from it with care, but he spoke again soon enough.</p><p>“Maybe you want to go back to Coruscant, spend the night in Organa’s quarters instead.” His voice was rough with a jealousy that Obi-Wan had grown accustomed to, and the edge of pain to it made a tightness rise in Obi-Wan’s own chest in return.</p><p><i>Oh, Anakin</i>. Obi-Wan couldn’t say those two words out loud, not together, not in the tone he wanted to use, but they echoed in the chambers of his own mind nonetheless. His former Padawan might serve Sidious with an iron fist, but in moments such as this, it was all too easy for Obi-Wan to see the pain and the despair of Mustafar. Anakin’s stumble as he sensed Padmé’s death, the wildness in his eyes as he lurched to his knees—they hovered just below Anakin’s surface.</p><p>Painful memories but important ones, to Obi-Wan, for they came together with the memory of Yoda’s whisper in his mind: <i>live, two children do</i>. Obi-Wan had made a choice, there in that moment. He had faced Anakin’s broken madness and feared he could not win and—</p><p>He had made a choice. There had been only one thing Obi-Wan could think of to tie Anakin to him again. One thing that would allow him to keep track of his wayward Padawan, to control that rage and to distract him from ever accidentally finding the children.</p><p>He had offered himself. His subservience. His devotion.</p><p>But Anakin was waiting for an answer, here and now, and Obi-Wan had to weigh his response carefully.</p><p><i>He’s not my type</i>, Obi-Wan could say, and Bail might die regardless of whether or not Anakin believed it to be true. The time for flippancy had passed, this night.</p><p><i>He has a wife</i>, Obi-Wan could insist, and he had no idea what might happen next. Padmé’s memory was in these rooms always, and it was one Obi-Wan feared to invoke.</p><p>“I prefer not to fuck my friends,” Obi-Wan finally said, and his voice was as dead serious as it had ever been. Let Anakin occupy himself with questions about what those words said about <i>their</i> relationship. Let him keep his attention on himself, and on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s earlier maneuvers had fulfilled their purpose, had made Bail blend back into the mass of Senators and other figures Obi-Wan used to manipulate and direct Anakin’s attention.</p><p>The look on Anakin’s face was almost—almost—unreadable. “What if I ordered you to?”</p><p>Obi-Wan leaned forward, set his glass of brandy on the table still mostly full, and then leaned back to taper his fingers across his stomach. “We both know I’m here for <i>you</i>, Anakin. Not for anyone else.” He shifted purposefully, both to draw Anakin’s attention and as a reminder to himself that he was still just this side of sore from the previous night. It made shame burn within, because he liked that reminder, and he let it show in his eyes. Anakin would expect such shame from him, just a little, and it was important to let Anakin see what he expected to. To do less would only raise questions Obi-Wan could not afford.</p><p>Anakin stood, set his own glass down, strolled his way around the table. He leaned down, and a warm hand gripped Obi-Wan’s chin, tilted his face at an angle to allow Anakin to suck bruising kisses along his jaw. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”</p><p><i>Excellent</i>, Obi-Wan thought, and pressed his face further into Anakin’s touch. The movement was just enough to appear instinctive rather than conscious. <i>That’s exactly what I want.</i></p><p><i>Force</i>, he just had to hope he was truly the one manipulating Anakin, and not the other way around.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The ending was also inspired by prompt number 8 from <a href="https://hellsdemonictrinity.tumblr.com/post/160523410875/angstfluff-prompt-list">THIS</a> list: "I'm never letting you go."</p><p>Thank you so much for reading! I'm <a href="https://treescape.tumblr.com/">treescape</a> on tumblr, where I don't really blog a lot, but do love to take prompts and talk about Star Wars with people.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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